Punishment
by BeeBear-Chick
Summary: The time for judgement has arrived. Captured and taken away by the Executioner, James fights to free himself all while keeping himself intact. But something...or someone, isn't so willing ot let him go. First time writing fanfic.  chick side of account


James slid along the grime covered wall, the gun in his hand down to its last four bullets. He had another pack that only held seven in his pocket. When those ran out he had a pipe. The only light showing his path came from his flashlight, the hospital left in a complete darkness with the lack of power that seemed to be a reoccurring problem here. Not that there was much to see here in the dark anyway. It was what hid there that frightened him. In the pitch black of Silent Hill, things that would otherwise be shunned by light dwelled. Their deformities a horrid adaption to some sort of greater evil that had settled over what was once a beautiful town. The town he and his wife spent some of their most cherished memories in. What was left now was a shrouded husk, like a corpse wrapped in a burial shroud. Nothing more remained of the pleasant place that he'd visited so long ago. Not even his beloved wife. Or so it would seem.

The letter she mailed him rested safely in his breast pocket, close to his heart. Carrying it there gave him some small comfort, knowing Mary was indeed alive somewhere in the town and not cold in her grave like he'd feared. 3 long years without her, but now it was coming to an end. His beloved, his cherished was here somewhere. Hiding, maybe, from the monsters that now happily dominated the town. But she was here, he could almost feel her at his finger tips around every dark corner, almost smell her perfume in each cloud of fog he cut through. A day, no, a week he'd been looking and still he felt as though he were no closer to finding her. Didn't she want to be found?

From down the hall he could hear the clattering echoes of shoes on tile, not people. He lifted the gun up until it was level with his cheek, staying pressed against the stained wall. If it was what he feared, then he'd need to aim true and save the few shots he had left. The nurses, while docile and more often than not attractive back home, were cruel and deformed here. Wrapped up in their own torturous world of insanity and bloodlust that drove the would-be caregivers to harm. The solemn click-clack grew louder as it approached. His fears came to a head as the being rounded the corner and was bathed in hideous light. He aimed steady and as she let out a gasping shriek, fired off a bullet into her head. Her brains splattered everywhere. But he didn't stop to appreciate the 'clean' kill. The sound would attract more nameless horrors. He'd only come for some medical supplies, his own kit back in the apartments was running dangerously low. No surprise with the ferocity of some of the beasts that prowled here. Just the other day he'd taken a shot of acid to the chest and had to peel off his shirt for fear of it eating through his flesh. The burns there were still tender.

Keeping his back to the wall and his gun held at the ready, James flashed his light down the dark hall and proceeded with calculated steps. Each thud of his own footfall made him wary of what may come for him around the next bend. He turned up his radio just to be safe. He pressed his back to the wall at the next turn and flung himself around the corner like he'd seen those police do in movies. It may have been incorrect in real life, but here it worked just fine and saved his skin on numerous occasions. The next corridor was clear, save for a few disgustingly large beetles that etched along the floor with their almost mechanical sounds. He made a face of disgust and stomped his heel onto a passing beetle with a satisfying crunch. At first he'd been appalled at the sound but now he welcomed it. They didn't bother him much once his dominance over the insects had been asserted. He felt safe enough to lower his gun and proceed to the rust-stained double doors at the end of the corridor. To his horror and delight, dim lights flickered on and off on the other side. He didn't feel safe enough to shut off the flashlight, but knew that the beasts wouldn't be as attracted to him with what lighting there was to hide his own. Another sharp, 'professional' turn and he popped off another nurse that came at him with a scalpel. He kicked away the dangerous instrument apprehensively. He didn't trust any of these things to lie still, even after they'd been gunned to hell and back. He'd seen one acid-spitting creature crawl away after he'd thoroughly pounded its head with a wooden board. There was no telling what they could do.

The doors let out a rancid breath of air as they gently swung open and closed behind him. It was always unnerving, how those doors seemed to like to push you along in case you thought of turning back. He took a few cautious steps into the first room in the hall to ensure nothing was going to jump out and surprise him. The radio remained silent except for the occasional flicker of white noise; he heaved a mental sigh of relief and lowered his gun. James crossed the grubby tiles, avoiding a bit of fallen equipment before ripping open the medical cabinets that lined the small office-like room.

Jackpot.

He pulled out the scattered medical supplies that lined the bottom shelf of the cabinet, stuffing them frantically into his pockets. The gauze and sterile wipes made an odd, warm feeling of comfort blossom in his chest. James grabbed two first aid kits on the top shelf and tucked them away with the others. He felt better already. The other cabinets held less fruitful results; a few needles that he figured may have some use later, and a bottle of over the counter painkillers. What they were doing in this room he didn't want to know, but into his pockets they all went. He turned sharply on his heel and rushed back out. The hall was clear still when he returned to it, but scanning carefully with his flashlight illuminated a crimson pool on the floor. He wasn't sure what had been there before and he didn't want to know had gotten back up and walked away. He side-stepped it cautiously, keeping his gun up and locked in front of him. The radio was silent. He felt a little better about this, having that radio on hand had huge advantages.

Bolting around the corner in his 'loose cannon cop' way once more, he pressed his shoulder to the grime covered wall and scanned with patience. Rushing got you nowhere. His flashlight showed the way was clear still and he resumed his careful pace. He was lucky he was so careful. 2 corridors to go and when he rounded the next corner his radio fizzed to life, hissing out static like a snake. His eyes widened in horror as he pressed tighter to the wall. He couldn't hear the thing yet so he supposed that was a good sign, he clicked off the safety of his gun once more and questioned why he even bothered locking it anymore. His ears were ringing with adrenaline, every sense heightened and his awareness doubling instantly. And then he heard it.

_Thud…thud…screeeeeearch… thud…thud…screeeeearch._

He knew what the sound meant, what kind of abomination was making it. Dropping his gun back to his side, James turned on his heel and dashed back down the hall, praying he wasn't too late to hide as the horrid stomps and scraps grew deafeningly loud. A crash echoed behind him, he glanced back to see a door go flying down the hall. It was so close now, so close. James swung himself around another corner, pushing through the first set of doors he came too and looked around frantically for a place to hide. The noises of his pursuer halted for a moment, but he wasn't taking any chances. He forced open a closet door, pushed aside the rotting hospital gowns and forced himself inside, shutting the door and peering out the shutters built into the door. He could see out the glass, a shadowy silhouette. It filled the window with its darkness, its form unrecognizable. But he knew what was out there. A metallic scratching noise burned his ears as the beast outside turned sharply. He bent down and covered his ears. He heard glass shatter and scotched further back into the depths of the closet. He positioned a few paper gowns in front of him and hoped the beast wouldn't search there. The door broke down in a mess of splinters, it practically exploded. Heavy footsteps entered the room, occasionally followed by the dragging of that hideous knife. James covered his mouth with his hands and prayed that it wouldn't hear him breathing. Or the pounding of his heart that seemed so loud now. He risked a glance out the blinds and felt his bladder pinch in fear. It was exactly what he feared most. That Red Pyramid…Thing! It was tearing apart shelves with its usual stoicism. Searching for _him_. It's hulking body flexing in a gruesome way with every movement it made, its large helmet scraping along the wall and nicking the ceiling. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and look away but that morbid interest that all humans have prevented him from looking away. Instead he watched in horror as the beast raided the room around him and then turn its attention to the closet. With growing horror he realized he hadn't turned his flashlight off, the pale beams of light shone through the closet door and illuminated the area around his hiding spot. He bit his lip and flicked it off but the beast still came. It wasn't as dumb as he gave it credit for. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach as he pulled out his gun and raised it to the level of his cheek, hands trembling with fear as he adjusted his finger of the trigger. One squeeze, if he aimed right. One squeeze and then he'd run for his life. The beast reached out with twitching arms and pulled at the closet door. He heard the hinges groan in protest before the door came off entirely and he was exposed. He squeezed the trigger and recoiled slightly as the gun kicked in his hand. The bullet pinged uselessly off his helmet.

Still following through with his plan, James recovered in a second and dove out the opening of the closet. And to the feet of the Pyramid head beast. It reached for him and he yelled out in terror, worming along the floor away from it. A deep, angry noise thundered out from the bottom of the helmet and it was on him in a heartbeat. James fired off until the chambers clicked empty and useless. He pushed and shoved, fighting with all his might. He cut his hand on the edge of the metal helmet in his struggle. The pyramid thing wouldn't budge as it hovered over him; its knees rested on either side of his chest and nearly smothered him with their sheer size alone. When the fighting did no good he laid still, panting heavily and looking up to the helmet with tremendous fear. He'd seen what the creature did to its victims. Raping and maiming beyond recognition, slaughtering them when it derived no more fun from them. Would that be his fate? Would he be ripped in half or otherwise used to sate the things sick lust? It made no move and simply sat still as a statue over top of his trembling body. James blinked slowly and tried to worm out from under it with the utmost caution. The thundering noise echoed out again and he laid still. The beast leaned closer, a sucking noise echoed through the underside of its helmet. It was _sniffing _him, he realized with disgust. He batted away the tip of the helmet with his wounded hand, the creatures' whole head in turn moved away. It made a noise and lifted a gloved fist, smacking him so hard he saw stars and his head lolled to the side. With what he could only describe as gentility, the beast lifted him into its arms. Its flesh was cold and clammy, every muscle taut and rigid. Like he was on high alert every second. It tucked his head onto its shoulder, just under the ridge of his helmet and held him gently. James didn't move as it lifted one hand and began to pet his head. Dear god, it was hugging him and petting him like some sort of animal! He didn't dare protest, being this close to the monster and fighting back would surely spell out his demise. A very pain filled one at that. The hand in his hair kept up its gentle petting. He almost vomited, the glove trailing around his head left gobs and streaks of his last victim through his hair. He closed his eyes and tried to wish the thing away when the back of his eyelids lit up in pain and he almost swooned. It punched the back of his head, and rather hard he might add. He struggled, almost flopping like a fish when another hit struck. This time he felt a warm trickle of blood follow after it. He stilled, but it wasn't enough for the beast that punched him again and again. Then his world turned black and he surrendered himself to sweet oblivion.


End file.
